A Twist in the Path
by TheImmortalLavern
Summary: Even as he watched the flames he saw figures of a life not his dance and speak soundlessly to him, mock him, haunt him, tell him things he wished not to know in a voice he couldn't hear. He did not want to know about this past.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. But all characters not mentioned in the books belong to me.**

**The forestlands he stood in were deadly silent. As they should be, he thought in contempt. No being would dare to grace his presence unless they wished death. A cool breeze shook the trees he stood under. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling more energized then he had ever felt before. It seemed every living creature on this planet were giving up their life's energy just for him; just so he could have their power and feel this invigorated. Perhaps not willingly they gave it up, but he took it gladly.**

**They all had said he would fail. They all had laughed as he gave hints of what he knew he would one day accomplish, laughed at him, of course, never with him. He had been informed that the fates of destiny had frowned upon his dreams, and that a different path lay ahead of him. He could have gone that way, but to give this up? Never. So he had just ignored the fates, and that in itself revitalized him. No power he could not even see could control him. Nothing could control him.**

**They had laughed at him, but if he was to fail then why was everything going so smoothly? In just a few days time he would begin something that had started when he was a mere boy. Those few days would not be long, though. Time was rather irrelevant to him. He was patient, he had not been before, but he was patient now, and so he would gladly wait any number of days that was required.**

**He looked around him; he knew what was around him as well as he knew his own name, but he looked. A few feet away from him was a small crystal blue stream. How it had stayed so pure in this horrible forest he had no idea, but it didn't really matter. He knelt down beside it and scooped a handful in his hand and leisurely sipped it. It tasted better than how it appeared as it rolled down his throat quenching his thirst.**

**Still kneeling, he looked at the hand he had just drunk from. Then, unhurriedly, he turned to look at the stream to see his reflection staring back at him. The water was so clear that he saw himself perfectly. He slowly turned his head from side to side. He was flawless. He saw looking back at him a young man with a perfectly chiseled face, oval in shape, he had death-black hair that fell to his shoulders, parted down the center, not a hair out of place. His eyes, a metallic red, shone brightly. His body was a little on the tall side, slim yet muscular, although he had never really worked out a day in his life. He wore slacks the same color as his hair, and a black long-sleeved shirt. Over it he wore a hooded cape with the hood down.**

**He was completely flawless; or, he better be. He had long ago lost count of how many charms and enchantments he had cast on himself to make him so perfect and strong. He was no longer the gangly, clumsy, disproportional fool he had once been. The only way you could have possibly related the two to each other was by his red eyes and jet-black hair.**

**He sighed, and then stood up. There was so much that was yet to be done, yet he didn't feel the least bit rushed. He could have easily flown or apparated, but he chose instead to walk. He would not be found here. As he walked aimlessly yet with a vague idea of a destination, he stared ahead contemplatively.**

**A smirk crossed his face as he thought. Sidliple had tried to thwart him yesterday, had shown his cards and declared betrayal. Not a major loss. The kid had been an idiot anyway, and he had enjoyed vaporizing him. He much preferred bloody deaths, but unfortunately they leaved too much evidence that would be difficult to hide.**

**Derlyn and Slyireia considered themselves to be quite clever; they had thought he wouldn't know about their plan to overthrow him before he even had a chance to get somewhere to be thrown off of. He clenched his hand in sudden anger. He had found out about them a little too late, although he would never admit it, and the ministry had got a whiff of just what he was up to, where he was hiding. Because of them he had been forced to move operations a little ahead of schedule. It didn't really make any difference to him that the schedule had changed, but it enraged him that those two betrayers had almost managed to make a fool of him.**

**He slowly unclenched his hand, ignoring the small droplets of blood that fell to the ground, and brought his hand up to rub thoughtfully against his chin. An evil smirk crossed his face. Yes, he would have much fun making those two pay, if only he didn't have so much more pressing matters to take care of first. Never mind that, though, time is irrelevant.**

**He looked up as three figures approached him. Jilp, Kythlianne, and Efrijim walked up to him with a courage he wouldn't let himself admire, and each, in turn, bowed respectively to him. If he trusted anyone, he trusted these three. To no one but himself would he give his life, but he would trust these three. Jilp was tall and slim, with hazel eyes and soft blond hair that was cut at his ears. Kythlianne, too, was tall and slender, and had an elvish beauty about her with her contemplative blue eyes and long red hair that fell to her ankles. Efrijim, on the other hand, was averaged size and a little plump. He had fiery orange-colored eyes and short brown hair. All three wore long black robes.**

**At first he had been suspicious when told they had wanted to side with him. Their very appearance spoke against the evil he had allowed to infest him. But they had all proved their loyalty to him, several more times than he could count, and he had done some research and had found out that they had all led difficult, pain-ridden lives and though pure on the outside their hearts raged for revenge. He had, of course, used their pasts to keep them loyal and make them lust for blood. He had found he was very good at that.**

**As he looked at Efrijim, an almost sad look crossed his face, but he erased it before it was seen. Efrijim had once been as lovely as the other two, but the evil he had inside of him long before Efrijim had come to him had already started to wear away his body. He feared it would one day happen to him, but ultimately decided that it only happened to some people, tough for Efrijim.**

**He looked at each of them in turn; forcing them to make eye contact with him, and then without a word turned right and started walking. He didn't need to look behind him to know that the three followed him without a sound or inquiry, nor did he fear that they might stab him in the back with his eyes turned away from them. If anything it should be them who should be afraid.**

**He continued walking until he came to an old tiny shack. From the outside it looked barely to be one room. Impossible for any being to know that it was indeed actually two full stories high with a basement and attic. He had doused it with so many spells that only he could walk inside and make the hidden house appear, which it did as he stepped inside. The room immediately inside was a large den room with a huge flaming fire directly ahead, and large comfy armchairs and small coffee tables spread here and there, and bookshelves lined a few of the walls.**

**He had never before let the three of them into his home, and he enjoyed the awe he saw on their faces as they took the room in and the huge silver chandelier above the center of the room. But more than that he relished the look of shock, horror, and fear as they one by one looked to the corner of the room and saw the gigantic fifty-foot snake curled up there, its color yellow, black, and blood-red.**

**He walked to the center of the room, and watched them intently out of the corner of his eye; he had yet to turn his back away from them. The three stood shock-frozen in the doorway.**

**"Do you like my pet?" he asked softly. "I acquired it from an ancestor from way before our time."**

**He watched as Kythlianne swallowed hard before walking into the house until she stood behind him. Yes. He knew she would be first. Kythlianne was the most loyal, competent, and skilled of the three, and he considered her his second in command, although he would not tell her that lest she get an overblown head. Efrijim came next, and then last Jilp.**

**The door closed behind him. He walked up the stairs all the way up to the attic, and went inside. With a barely noticed hesitation the other three followed. The attic was dusty and contained a few bats and spiders, but he ignored them. He went directly over to an old trunk, opened it, and began sifting through the books inside. He spoke as he searched,**

**"Erijim, tell me how your work is going." Erijim, Jilp, and last Kythlianne informed him that everything was going smoothly, and accordingly to his overall plan. As he looked he saw out of the corner of his eyes Kythlianne looking at a shelf near her.**

**"My Lord, if I may be so bold, might I ask who are they?" she asked pointing with one of her long fingers to a picture with two smiling people in it. Jilp and Efrijim turned to look at the photo as well. On the left was a young man with short, dirty blond hair and fiery red eyes, and holding his hand was a young woman with long black hair that fell to her thighs and gorgeous purple eyes. He was dressed in a tuxedo, she a beautiful floor-length white dress. He took one look at the picture before answering her.**

**"They're dead," he said flatly. She hesitated before her curiosity bested her.**

**"Is that man your-"**

**"I killed that man," he snapped. "That's all you need to know." She took the hint, but didn't falter.**

**"Yes, my Lord."**

**Her bravery and the fact she didn't cower every time he spoke was one of the reasons he liked her. Finally he found what he was looking for. He lifted one thick book from the trunk; it was draped in black velvet and light for all its size. He handed it to Kythlianne.**

**"Here. The spells and potions required for your next assignment are in here. You may go now." Kythlianne took the book, and she and the two men bowed before leaving the attic and exiting the house.**

**He stared after them at the door of the attic before going over to the shelf where Kythlianne had found that old photograph. He stared at it for a long time. He had taken his wand out of his pocket and was absently twirling it in his fingers. The fact that the people in the picture were stationary was probably what had caught her eye at first. He realized there was another framed photograph next to that one, only it was laying face down. He slowly lifted it and placed it up right.**

**This picture also held two smiling people sitting on a bench. On the left was a young boy only perhaps eleven. He had messy black hair that was supposed to be combed and shinning red eyes. The boy was holding the hand of a girl of about the same age sitting next to him with strawberry-red, soft hair that fell to her middle back and energized sky-blue eyes. Both children wore jeans and shirts. They looked to be the happiest things in the world. Beneath the photo, mounted on the frame, was a silver plaque. It read: Tom Riddle & Lyli Baleraw.**

**He stared at the photograph for five long minutes. Or perhaps fifteen. Or thirty. He had forgotten he had this picture. He had almost forgotten about the people in the picture. He stared into the eyes of the girl.**

**"Was it my fault?" he whispered to the picture in a pain-ridden voice he would never let a living soul hear. "Did I kill you, too, Lyli?" Of course she didn't answer. He hung his head.**

**These pictures were dangerous, he decided. They filled him with so many overwhelming emotions that could be used against him. He wasn't a fool; he knew how powerful love was, had experienced it himself. He knew that he was what people called 'evil.' But that did not bother him, did not slow him down. But these pictures would. He abruptly stopped twirling his wand in his fingers and pointed it directly at the picture with the man and woman.**

**"Damn you both," he muttered angrily. If they were in person in front of him, he would blast them both. Or he would blast the man. The woman he would give a chance; he almost admired her. But he would relish the man's screams. He muttered a few words and a sickly-colored green goo shot out of his wand directly at that photo. He watched as the green acid leisurely burned and dissolved the photo into ashes.**

**He was about to do this with the second photo, but hesitated. He finally came to a decision and when he mumbled a few words the photo of the two children shrunk until it was barely an half an inch in diameter. He conjured up a skull locket and placed the photo in it. He then zapped a chain around it and put it around his neck. He considered what he had just done. Perhaps he was going soft. Though just looking at the skull locket made him want to rip something to pieces, so this may not have been such a bad idea, he decided.**

**He then scooped up the ashes of the photograph he had incinerated, left the attic, and went downstairs to his den, and took a seat in the large armchair in front of and on the right of the fireplace. He was concocting a powerful potion in his potions room upstairs. It was a lengthy potion. He had been making it for two years now, and it was almost done. Just a few more days. That's why he had been waiting, for this potion was crucial.**

**He looked intently in the fire, trying not to think about the photographs, trying to think about the potion, not the photographs. Without taking his eyes off the dancing flames he furiously threw the ashes in his hands into the fire, and watched them become engulfed, and he watched the small explosion it caused in the blaze. He had never been told about his father. He had never met him. He had been told all about his mother, but no one knew about his father. No one had been able to tell him a single thing about his father except his name, but he knew everything about him.**

**Someone must have cursed him. Perhaps it had been Fate who had punished him for ignoring her; perhaps for the path he had readily chosen. He knew all about his father. He could not sleep in peace, for he dreamed another's life. When he fell asleep he lived his father and mother's lives as if they were his own. He knew their lives to the detail. Well, not all of their lives, but a certain part, when they had met, fallen in love, when they broken apart, when they had died. He relived his own life as if he were still only eleven.**

**Even as he watched the flames he saw figures of a life not his dance and speak soundlessly to him, mock him, haunt him, tell him things he wished not to know in a voice he couldn't hear. He did not want to know about this past. He would not have minded the future, would not have minded seeing his glory, would not even have minded to see his death for he knew that even in death he would still be remembered and his work continued.**

**He was called twisted and foolish, while he was very much sane and had a very clear idea of where he wanted to go. Though, he wasn't sure how long he could stay sane with these dreams haunting him. He had always dreamed of the past. Ever since he was kid, he had dreamed the past. It hadn't been until he was an adult that he had dreamed of his parents.**

**As he watched the flames, he saw his father quite clearly, and without truly realizing it he slipped into the darkness of sleep. He wasn't afraid someone would murder him in his sleep, not with his snake ten feet away. So he slipped into slumber. He saw his father standing in front of him crystal clearly. His stupid, muggle father. How dare he give me muggle blood, he thought contemptibly. But soon, as always, he was no longer looking at his father. He was instead looking out. And he no longer was himself. He was instead Thomas Riddle…**


	2. Chapter 2

He was running, gasping for breath, but he couldn't slow down, not if he didn't want to be caught. Behind him, chasing him, was, what was it? He could describe it as darkness, for it had no shape. He could really only call it death. He was running from Death, and ahead of him there was Life, he just only had to reach out and grab it, thought he could, but it was really so far away. For countless minutes he just continued to run. His mind was empty except for the word live.

He could feel the darkness behind him beckoning, telling him he was going the wrong way, trying to trick him; he wouldn't be deceived, not again, so he ran. He could see the Life ahead of him, in the shape of a beautiful woman, her arms open to welcome him from the darkness of the Death chasing him. He was almost there, just a few more feet.

And as he got there he realized he had been deceived anyway, again, for as he got closer the woman became disoriented and then clear as a figure too horrible to describe, it's arms still open to embrace him. He tried to stop running, tried to turn around, for behind him was Life, trying to save him, but he was too far away, the darkness he had thought Life was too powerful, he could not turn away.

He tried to scream for someone to help him, but he couldn't, no air in his lungs to scream with, so out of breath he was. As he came to a foot away from the monster it held up a hand to halt him, and he halted and could not move at all. The Life that had been behind him was gone; it could no longer save him. The monster came close so that it's face was but a few inches away, and it's arms moved up as if to strangle him. Then it grinned, and under the cloak it wore he saw quite clearly purple eyes. He finally had gathered enough breath, and he screamed.

"YAHHH!"

He woke, panting for breath. The dream left him as soon as he woke, and he knew nothing of it except that he was very scared right now, and that he had the odd feeling that he'd had that dream before, even if he didn't know what the dream was.

He shook his head, and looked around. He was lying on a couch in the apartment he shared with his best friend since fourth grade, Matrix, and he didn't seem to be here. He frowned, and then suddenly remembered what today was. His girlfriend for eight months, Gabriel, had been dying to see a concert and he had surprised her with tickets. The concert was at seven, and he was to pick her up at six-thirty. He had been working in the morning, and had come to the apartment exhausted at four, and had asked Matrix to wake him in an hour.

He frowned; he must have gotten up early because Matrix had yet to wake him. He shrugged it off, sat up, and yawned. He felt like a long, hot shower, which he now had time to take. He turned on the lamp next to him and felt around until he found his watch. He looked at the time. It read 8:00. Thomas's mouth dropped open. At just that moment Matrix walked through the door.

"Hey, buddy, I'm back. Guess what? I was just at the mall and they had the coolest thing, it was this…" he trailed off. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Thomas stared at Matrix, and didn't take his eyes off of him as he pulled to admission tickets from his pocket. He held them up for Matrix to see. He watched as Matrix rubbed a hand through his black hair and looked at the tickets with confused gray eyes, then at the watch on his wrist, and then slowly comprehend that Thomas was glaring daggers at him.

"You brainless idiot," Thomas breathed.

Matrix must have had at least a single brain cell in his head for he took that moment to drop the bag he was holding and bolt through the door at a dead run. Thomas wasted no time following him. Thomas ran out of the apartment after Matrix, and paused for a split second at a window; they were on the second floor and he could see Matrix dashing out the building and not slow down a beat, laughing. Thomas followed. He knew that Matrix was a lot faster than him, but then again, Matrix wasn't seeing red.

He had been chasing Matrix for a solid eight minutes, and they were now running through a park. He finally saw Matrix stumble for a second on a rock and Thomas wasted no time in throwing his arms around him and knocking him down. They both broke apart, Thomas on his hands and knees and Matrix a few feet away on his back. They were both gasping for breath, Thomas because of the run and Matrix because he was laughing hysterically.

"Well? What the hell happened? FOUR HOURS, Matrix!" Thomas snapped when he finally had found enough breath to speak. He waited until Matrix stopped laughing long enough to say,

"You *choke* look so – you're totally red! Calm down buddy! Gabriel will understand!" And then he broke down in another fit of laughter.

"I promised her this! I've been planning this night for weeks! She'll probably break up with me or something, you idiot!"

"So? You break up with each other practically every week! If the words 'you two are perfect for each other, stop breaking up' smacked you two in the face, you'd still break up and get back together at most three days later!"

"What? I don't think you should be spitting words of advice about not breaking up when you're the reason for it half the time!" Matrix finally stopped laughing as he realized that Thomas was bringing up his hands to strangle him, and wisely backed up.

"Listen, you're upset, and you're using it as an excuse to strangle me, which I know you've been trying to do for a long time. You just have to calm down, okay? Soothing breaths and all that, right? Now just walk back to the apartment, take a deep breath, swallow your pride, call up Gabriel, explain what happened in the pitiful voice of the pitiful man you are, and I'm sure she'll understand and forgive you, and the two of you will probably just go out to eat or something, okay?"

Thomas thought for a second. He hated to admit, but that probably was what he should do.

"Alright, I think I'll do just that," he agreed. "What are you going to do?" Matrix rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and looked past him for a second then looked Thomas directly in the eye.

"I thought about that too. I decided that I'm going to run like the wind and hope you find it in your heart not to chase after me." Thomas stared after him, confused, as Matrix shot off. He started at the voice he heard directly behind him.

"Well," it said, icy cold. He spun around to see Gabriel three feet away from him. She was dressed in black slacks and a pretty blue t-shirt. She had straight, short black hair and, at the moment, frosty green eyes. He froze.

"Um, hi sweetie." She said nothing, just continued to stare at him with much the same expression he must have used with Matrix. "Gabriel? Um, honey? See, it wasn't my fault, really!" and he proceeded to babble on about what happened. "See? It's Matrix you should kill! Gabriel?" She glared at him for a few minutes before finally answering.

"I waited for you for two hours. You're going to have to do better than that." And she smacked him, hard, and stormed off, but not before shouting over her back, "We are through!"

He rubbed the spot where she had smacked him, thought for a second, and then took off in the direction Matrix had run off. He had been going to forgive him, but now he was going to actually strangle Matrix, sixteen years of being best friends or not.

An hour later Thomas and Matrix stumbled through the door of their apartment, and both took a seat on different couches, each panting for breath. Thomas had a black eye, Matrix a bloody nose, and they were both covered in bruises. The second they had started fighting they had completely forgotten what they were fighting about, and afterwards all they knew was that that pretty much settled all of their old scores. Matrix groaned.

"I think you broke one of my ribs," he accused tiredly.

"You probably broke a lot of my bones too, so we'll call it even. They both took turns showering, and each went their own way as if nothing had happened.

The next day after Thomas had gotten home from his job he decided it was time to go to Gabriel's apartment and apologize, which he did.

"Hello?" she answered the door. "Oh. It's you, Thomas."

"Hi, Gabriel," he said in what he hoped was a cheerful voice, and he handed her some roses before kissing her on the lips. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Gabriel blinked, and stared at the roses in her hands, and then looked up at Thomas. Their eyes met and locked, and then kissed him back.

"I love you, too," she replied and then sighed as if annoyed, "It's really difficult to stay mad at you when you do things like this, you know." He grinned. He knew. She invited him inside. They ended up spending the whole day together. Thomas came back to his apartment very happy.

He didn't really like admitting it, but Matrix was right. They did seem to always get back together after breaking up, and he loved being with her. He entertained the thought of proposing to her. They certainly loved each other very much…and he was really happy with her. But what if she said no?

He sighed and got up, looking around for a magazine he had got the other day. When he couldn't find it he went to find Matrix to see if he had taken it. Matrix was in the shower so he banged on the bathroom door and shouted, "Where's my magazine!" There was a pause.

"WHAT?"

"I SAID, WHERE'S MY MAGAZINE?"

"….HUH?"

"MAGAZINE! WHERE IS IT?"

"OH! WAIT A MINUTE, WHAT?" Thomas groaned.

"NEVERMIND!"

Pause.

"WHAT?"

Thomas decided to look through Matrix's room. As he entered and looked around he realized that he had never actually been in this room, even though they had shared an apartment for five years. They tended to respect each other's privacy; or he assumed that's why he had never been in here before. He looked around and sure enough, found the magazine.

As he was about to leave, a picture on Matrix's dresser caught his eye. He picked it up and looked at it. There were five people in it; the woman on the left he recognized as Matrix's older sister, but he didn't know who the others were, probably her family, though. Thomas had met his sister a few times, but never her family. Actually, he hadn't seen her for a while now.

Holding her hand in the picture was a man he assumed to be her husband, and three children. The girl looked to be about ten, and the two boys maybe fourteen and eighteen. What had caught Thomas's eye was that the five smiling people were all dressed in different colored cloaks. He guessed it had been on Halloween. He shrugged his shoulders, put down the photo, and walked out of Matrix's room.

As he left, the five sets of eyes turned and watched him leave and watched until the door had closed before letting out sighs of relief. They immediately started laughing and chasing each other around the photograph, smiling merrily. Thomas, of course, saw none of this.

Thomas was reading his magazine and watching the television when Matrix came dashing into the room.

"Thomas!" he shouted, and he grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him, "You've got to help me, please?" Thomas lowered Matrix's hands and said,

"What?"

"My sister asked me to watch her daughter tomorrow because she's going somewhere with her husband, and I said yes, but I totally forgot that I have a date tonight with Diralene! I've wanted to go out with her for a long time! Please tell my you'll watch my niece! It's only for a few hours!" Matrix said all of this in a rush of words. Thomas frowned.

"I don't really like kids," he said, "but I guess I'll do it." Matrix grinned and slapped him on the back.

"Thanks! I knew I could count on you!" Thomas only nodded. "Oh, and I don't think you've met my niece before. She's a little odd, but I'm sure you can handle her!" Thomas frowned again as he remembered something.

"Doesn't she have two older brothers? Can't they watch her?" Matrix shook his head.

"No, they go to some boarding school." Thomas sighed in defeat.

"Then I'll do it."

"Thanks. See ya around." And Matrix left. Somehow Thomas was left with the feeling that Matrix had been keeping something from him, something he should know. Ah well. He started to read his magazine again when suddenly he heard a voice.

"Massster, Massster. Newssss for you I have." And the ground beneath him opened up and swallowed him, and he screamed soundlessly. And suddenly he was sitting in a large armchair in front of a roaring fire. He was immediately alert. He turned to see his pet snake right next to him, its head resting on the armrest. "Massster, sssso sssorry to disssterb you."

"And what is the reason for this disturbance?" he asked while softly rubbing the snake's head, ignoring the fact that his voice came out in a low hiss as well. The snake turned its head to the side to stare at something, silent. He followed its gaze and turned to find two figures lying unconscious in the center of the room. Derlyn and Slyireia. He grinned. "What have we here," he whispered, and got up and walked over to them. For a half hour he patiently stood there, waiting for them to get up.

After that half hour he watched them both stir. Slyeria slowly opened her eyes, looked around, and then immediately shut them again and took a deep breath. He grinned, and waited a few minutes for the other to open his eyes, too. When both had their eyes open and were looking expectantly at him, he spoke,

"Hello, so nice of you to come. I don't think you've ever been in my humble home before, would you care for a tour? And I hope my pet snake didn't scare you or anything. His bites aren't that blindingly painful," he said casually. "So, what brings the two of you here – oh, and did I mention how, happy, I am to see you both?" Derlyn swallowed, then hesitantly spoke.

"M-my Lord, please, you must forgive! Have mercy! It was not my idea, it wasn't! Nor was it Slyeria's! Forced! We were forced to do it! Please! We are your humble servants, please-" he was interrupted by Slyeria's angry outburst.

"Let's get this straight, Voldemort. Yeah, I used your name, got a problem without? I don't know about my brother here, but I am most certainly not your humble servant! I wouldn't rather die a slow painful death than ever serve your every need," he was about to say something to that, but she continued and wouldn't let him,

"Listen to me, Riddle, maybe you will have a rise in power, maybe a lot of idiots will come over to your side begging loyalty, but I swear to you that you will meet your end! It may not be by my hand, but you will! And in here or hell I'll be laughing at you. Your evil ways will not stand. Didn't you know that good always triumphs?" as she spoke she had been slowly removing her wand from her pocket. As she said the last word she whipped out her wand and pointed it at Voldemort and screamed, "expelliarmus!" but he had been anticipating this and quickly counter cursed it. He then waved his own wand and did a full body bind on her.

"What a shame," he said softly, "you were quite a fine witch. Though I'm glad I got to hear what you really had to say. I'm terribly sorry, though, that your courage and braveness will meet no reward." And a superior smirk crossed his face. "Last words?"

She glared at him, and with a small wave of his hand removed the binds from around her mouth. She immediately started shrieking, "Oh! And just what are you going to do to me? You will die! Do you hear me? You will fall and you will meet your end! You can kill me, but you can't kill my words! You will DIE!" Voldemort raised his eyebrows slightly.

"That's what I thought," and he replaced the bindings around her mouth. He then dramatically waved his arms and wand around, abruptly stopped with his wand pointing directly over Slyeria's heart, and whispered, "Avada Kedavra," she screamed so loud it could be heard through the bindings as he said those words, but as soon as they left his mouth, she was silent, her mouth frozen in a silent scream. No scar marked her.

Derlyn stared in utter horror at what had once been his dear sister. He couldn't even bring himself to call her an idiot for saying those things. He slowly turned to face Voldemort who was grinning.

"Well, my friend," he said softly, "I hear you and your sister were reporting on my doings to the ministry. Let's see if maybe you can help me out, too." He smiled. Derlyn cringed and could only whimper,

"My sister." Voldemort then turned his wand to point at Derlyn, who immediately started struggling, but couldn't seem to be able to do more than that.

"Imperio," he murmured, and Derlyn immediately stopped his struggling and his eyes glazed over. Voldemort crouched down beside him. "Tell me, my friend, all you know about the ministry of magic, and all they know about me, would you?"

A little while later he was walking up the stairs to his potions room. After extracting all the available information from Derlyn, he had found it in his heart to let him join his sister. He hoped he wasn't getting soft before he even had a chance to get mean.

He walked into his potions room and over to the huge cauldron in the center. Scattered all around the room were open books, ripped pages, and jars of ingredients and ready- made potions. But nothing was within four feet of the cauldron. He looking inside the cauldron at his potion and took a deep breath, taking in the intoxicating fumes. For two years he had been making it, and it was almost done, just a few more days.

He had let the crushed vampire fangs settle for the needed four hours, and was now ready to add the Ilidon Vine Thorns, and a few Gelea feet. Then that would have to sit for about three hours. But he knew that these two years would be well worth it. He pulled up a chair and sat by the cauldron, and slowly added the needed ingredients.

He saw from the corner of his eyes that his snake had come upstairs and was curled in corner. He let it go wherever it pleased for it was completely and utterly loyal, and it somehow always knew when someone was trying to break into his house. Quite a nifty pet. Salaazar Slytherin must have had good taste. Voldemort sat there for a while, just waiting for the ingredients to start to boil and dissolve. He sometimes enjoyed just watching his precious potion boil. As he sat there he remembered something he had almost forgotten.

"Oh, yes! With making this potion, I wonder how I'll ever find time to baby-sit Matrix's niece!" He immediately covered his mouth with both of his hands and just stared ahead, cursing wildly in his mind. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the snake raise its head and look at him, and he sweared that if it had eyebrows they would be raised to the roof. But luckily the snake chose to ignore it and laid its head back down.

Voldemort slowly lowered his hands, and continued to just stare ahead. He couldn't believe he had done that again. It wasn't all that easy having two extra memories in addition to his own. Sometimes, try as he might, he couldn't help but forget just who he was, and would slip. He was lucky no one but the snake had been around. He wondered why he had said that. He knew well what had happened when his father had baby-sat, and what happened before.

His father. He hated his father more everyday. He hated him for marrying his mother. For abandoning her; abandoning him. He couldn't stand him, and so he got his memory. As he stared into the boiling potion, he stayed awake, but from the dancing bubbles and small flames the potion created he could see the story so well, played out for him. I know this story already! He thought angrily. Why tell it to me again? Why tell me now? But his mind didn't listen and he watched a memory be played out silently by the potion's flames.

"Bye! Call me, okay?" He smiled.

"Of course, sweetie. Love you!" She smiled, and he walked away from her apartment and back to his own. He had a pretty good day. He thought again about marriage; he seemed to think about that a lot lately. He continued to think about it as he entered his apartment. It was pretty late, he had to get up early, and he was really tired. So he got ready for bed, and fell into his bed. He instantly fell asleep.

Suddenly, he bolted up. Do I have to get up already? He thought tiredly. I didn't hear my alarm, so why'd I get up? He was annoyed. He wanted to sleep. He then looked around, then squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. No, I'm still here. Wherever here was, it wasn't his apartment, or his bed. . In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say it was a bus. But it couldn't be, because where seat were supposed to be there was instead beds. He was on one, in fact.

"Hmm," he mumbled aloud. "Maybe if I look out the window, I'll have a better idea of where I am." So he got out of the bed he was lying on and looked out the window only to have his mouth drop open in shock. The bus wasn't even driving on the road, it was on the sidewalk. But nothing was getting run over, no, everything was in fact just jumping out of the way.

Suddenly he looked to front of the bus before letting out a sigh of relief. Good, there is a driver. He let his gaze drift across the bus until he came to a sign that said 'The Knight Bus.' There didn't appear to be anybody else on the bus, or whatever it was, so he just sat back down and waited. After a few minutes, the bus driver turned to him and said,

"So which is it, right or left?" Thomas stared at him, confused.

"What?" The driver pointed ahead.

"Well, which is it? Right or left?" Thomas looked out the front window, and thought he saw what the driver meant. On both sides there was a woman, to the left was a beautiful woman who appeared to be an angel, to the right a dark, scary, witch-like woman.

"Which way is the right way?" he asked. The driver nodded.

"Right it is." Thomas's eyes widened.

"No! I didn't say right! I asked you which was right! STOP!" But the driver didn't appear to hear his pleas and turned right. The bus stopped a few feet away from the witch-like woman, and the doors opened. Thomas didn't move.

"Your stop," the driver said. Still, Thomas remained stationary. He wasn't going out with that thing there! The driver sighed, and then out of nowhere a shadow grabbed his shoulder and started dragging him out.

"I ASKED WHICH WAY WAS RIGHT!" he screamed. The driver nodded.

"Yes, I know." But the thing continued to pull him out, and even as he held on to both sides of the door he knew that the shadow was winning. The shadow finally forced him forward, and he took one step on the pavement before,

"WHAT THE –" Was all Thomas had time to say as he suddenly found himself hundreds of feet in the air on a broom. A broom? What was that? All he knew for sure was that he was clinging to it for dear life. He tried to stop it, but the broom kept zipping around. "Please stop, please stop," he softly chanted to the broom, looking around.

There appeared to be other poor souls on the brooms as well, but they didn't seem to be clinging on to the broom as he was. Two of the people on brooms stood out from the rest. On his left was that beautiful angel-like woman, on his right that dark demon/witch-like woman. Both beckoned for him to come to him. Not only did it seem impossible to command this broom and steer it over to one of them without bumping into someone else and killing himself, he didn't really know who to go to.

But as both woman called out for him, the broom decided to take command and began bringing him closer to them. He turned to the angel woman.

"Come here, my prince charming," she more like sang than just spoke in her heavenly voice. "Stay away from that evil demon, come to me." He smiled and started to come over to her when he heard the other speak and turned to look at her.

"Don't listen to that thing," she spat. "It may be pretty but it lies and is trying to kill you. Come to me. I will save you from that demoness." Thomas found it pretty hard to believe that the angel was a demoness, and decided that he didn't want to be tricked by the real demon, and so went for the angel. "Idiot!" The demon shrieked. And she started speeding towards him and knocked him off his broom. The angel gasped,

"Oh no!" and for a second he thought he saw her face flicker into something horrible, but his attention was quite focused on the monster that had now killed him.

"Better you die by my hand and spare the rest, than by hers and bring them all down with you," it said softly, almost apologetically. What looked to be sadness crossed the monster's face. "I'm sorry, but I had to, my prince charming. I will try to save you, but not here or now." Thomas barely heard those last words as he tumbled head over heels and continued to fall.

He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the end, cursing that stupid demon wildly in his mind. How could she? And then he heard a loud BAM, but oddly felt nothing. He waited for a few seconds, then opened his eyes. He blinked in confusion.

He was standing up in some grassy plain, and he was suspicious to be in one piece, let alone standing. He was alone save for a shadowed figure standing in the distance. The figure leisurely walked up to him, but as it got closer it started to pick up its pace, and it stopped about ten feet from Thomas. Thomas stood unmoving. "Who are you?" he asked it.

The figure took one more step forward and Thomas could finally make out what it looked like. He had fiery red eyes, much like his own, and shoulder-length black hair, not a hair out of place. He was dressed in black slacks, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a black cloak with the hood down. The man looked flawless; no, he was flawless. His face held no expression.

"I know who you are. I know everything about you. I hate you for what you've done to me, for what you didn't do for me, and for that, I'm going to kill you, now that I finally have the chance." Thomas stared at him.

"What?" But as he spoke a cruel grin spread across the man's perfect face.

"Goodbye, Father," he whispered, and from nowhere produced a sword and ran up to Thomas, sword held high. Thomas could only stand there, shock-frozen. He was about to run, when the man who claimed to be his son was right in front of him, and the man brought the sword down, and sliced him in half.

For being sliced in half, he felt pretty good. In fact, he didn't hurt at all. After a minute, he realized to could open his eyes. He blinked in shock at finding himself in one piece. He looked around; there was nothing but blackness. But then he looked far ahead, and he saw that angel-woman, and, sure enough, behind him the demon-woman.

"Come to me," she commanded. "I'll save you."

"I am really getting sick of you two!" Thomas snapped before taking off at a run. The demon like woman chased him.

He was running, gasping for breath, but he couldn't slow down, not if he didn't want to be caught. Behind him, chasing him, was, what was it? He could really only call it a demon of death. He was running from Death, and ahead of him there was Life, the beautiful woman of Life, he just only had to reach out and grab it, thought he could, but it was really so far away. For countless minutes he just continued to run. His mind was empty except for the word live.

He could feel the darkness behind him beckoning, telling him he was going the wrong way, trying to trick him; he wouldn't be deceived, not again, so he ran. He could see the Life ahead of him, her arms open to welcome him from the darkness of the Death chasing him. He was almost there, just a few more feet.

And as he got there he realized he had been deceived anyway, again, for as he got closer the woman became disoriented and then clear as a figure too horrible to describe, it's arms still open to embrace him. He tried to stop running, tried to turn around, for behind him was Life, trying to save him, but he was too far away, the darkness he had thought Life was too powerful, he could not turn away.

He tried to scream for someone to help him, but he couldn't, no air in his lungs to scream with, so out of breath he was. As he came to a foot away from the monster it held up a hand to halt him, and he halted and could not move at all. The Life that had been behind him was gone; it could no longer save him. The monster came close so that it's face was but a few inches away, and it's arms moved up as if to strangle him. Then it grinned, and under the cloak it wore he saw quite clearly purple eyes. He finally had gathered enough breath, and he screamed.


End file.
